


A Different Kind of Brave

by ImagineWords



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Future Gen, Gen, Hufflepuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-10 12:23:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1159716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImagineWords/pseuds/ImagineWords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cara Brock is a young Muggleborn who hasn't had very many breaks in her life. Then she dives head first into the weirdest world she could never have imagined by accepting a letter to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where she is sorted into Hufflepuff and proceeds to be a wrecking ball to a school where age old house prejudices still exist. [OC nearly all the way, set after NextGen have left.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Cara skidded around the corner, her tattered converse finding it hard to find a good grip on the slippery surface. She could hear her pursuers gaining on her, their feet pounding the floor, faster than she was. She leapt over a homeless man, huddled in the alleyway she was sprinting down. Some of kids running after her weren’t as lucky as she heard bodies hit the floor. Cara dared a quick look back, dismayed to find there were still three of them racing after her. She hurtled around another corner, then immediately regretted it. Looming at the end of the alleyway; blocking her exit; was a tall fence. She considered climbing it but the chain links were too tightly packed for a good foothold. She came to a halt, and turned, planning to take another route. But the boys who’d been racing after her and caught up and were blocking the entrance. The one in front grinned, showing off his unpleasant yellow teeth.

“Go nowhere to run now ‘av yer,” he sneered.  
“I haven’t stolen nothing from you,” Cara tried, but he was having none of it and signalled his friends to advance on her. Cara shrugged inwardly; it had been worth a try. Turning, she sent a quick prayer up to whomever or whatever was listening then began charging towards the fence. The boys hadn’t expected her to do something so ridiculous and so for a moment they paused, confused. It gave Cara a head start and she was at the fence with plenty of distance put between herself and them. Then, she jumped. She was too short and the fence was definitely too tall, but somehow her hands managed to grab onto the top of the fence.   
Once again, the boy’s stopped running. “No way…” one muttered. She wasn’t quite sure how she did it, but somehow, Cara managed to spin herself over the fence and landed safely on the other side. The boy’s ran to the fence, the oldest one’s face looked supremely pissed off. Cara couldn’t help herself, she dug her hands into her coat pocket and pulled out the three iPhones she’d stolen from them and laughed as she waved them in front of their faces.   
“Looking for these?” she grinned, then turned tail and ran. The oldest boy shoved one of his friends out of the way and kicked angrily at the fence. It hurt his toe, which only served to make him even more annoyed.   
“’Ow the ‘ell did she jump this?” he muttered, to no one in particular.

Ten minutes away, Cara had let herself into the abandoned house she was squatting in. She searched around for the 17 year old whose name she didn’t know, but who she knew would pay good money for the stolen phones. The teenager wasn’t there though, so Cara made her way past a bunch of other children and teens to her spot in the corner of the living room, underneath the bookshelves, beside the broken sofa. She made sure no one was looking her way, then furtively slipped the phones into a broken part of the wall behind the sofa, then moved the wallpaper back in place. She couldn’t let anyone steal them; they were going to pay for her food for the night.   
The people who were currently living here kept themselves to themselves and Cara had nothing better to do whilst she waited to get her money, so once she had sorted her area out, she made her way back outside and sat on a low wall beside the run down park. Some kids from the local estate were already there, playing on the slide, which was the only thing not yet broken. It was late July and the weather was far too warm for the heavy coat Cara had on. But it was one of her most valuable pieces of clothing, and also the only thing she currently wore that she had actually paid for. She didn’t want to leave it unattended for fear someone would take it. She pulled it off now though, folding it carefully then tucked it underneath her, fanning herself with her hand. Her t-shirt was sticking to her; the run from the gang of pre-teen boys she’d stolen from had made her all hot and sweaty. Cara made a mental note to hit the local gym showers once she had funds. The house she was staying in had a shower too but the residents didn’t really like to clean after themselves and Cara found it too gross to use. She’d been staring off into the distance so hadn’t noticed the old man walking towards her until he was right beside her. She narrowed her eyes at him, but he looked harmless, his eyes were warm and smiling. He looked like he could be any old grandfather, except that his choice of dress was downright weird. He must’ve been a homeless, because normal people didn’t match up clothing the way he had. On his feet were walking boots, his trousers were normal enough but then he had on what looked like a striped pyjama top and above that, a suit blazer. Cara was even more confused when she took a closer look and recognised the label on the jacket. The blazer was designer. More than that, she knew how much it cost, more money than she could envisage. 

“Is it alright if I have a quick word with you?” the strange man asked, smiling. Cara didn’t really want to, but she decided to humour him. Maybe if she got him distracted, she could see whether he had anything good tucked away in his expensive pockets and run.   
“Sure,” she answered, and gave him a half smile back.   
“You’re name is Cara Brock?” he asked and Cara immediately threw up her guard, tensing up, eyes narrowed.  
“How do you know my name?” she asked forcefully, “are you from social?” she added.  
The man’s eye’s crinkled and he shook his head. “I’m a teacher. I’m here to tell you about coming to my school.”


	2. Chapter 2

Cara didn’t feel any better about that answer.  
“I’m not going to no school. They’ll put me in a Home. Anyway, how’d you even find me?”  
“The school I teach at isn’t like an ordinary school. We have ways of locating children like you.”  
“Locating children like me? What does that mean?” Cara asked scowling.  
“You’re not like these other people, who we call Muggles. You’re a witch Cara.”  
Cara couldn’t help it, she laughed, “Is that meant to be an insult?” Then she noticed that the man looked deadly serious, which only made her laugh harder.  
“My god, you actually believe what you’re saying. Do I look like a green skinned hag to you?” she shook her head in disbelief.  
“That’s just a Muggle invention. We don’t look any different to anyone else, but we are. We have the ability to use magic. I teach at a school called Hogwarts, where we teach you how to use it.”  
Cara’s looked at him incredulously. “You’re crazy. Muggle? Hogwarts? What kind of made up crap is this? Have you taken something?” she asked shrewdly. Some of the teenagers in the house she squatted in took drugs, and their hallucinations certainly weren’t very normal.   
The old man didn’t answer her. Instead he reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out an envelope, which he held out for her. Cara wasn’t quite sure why she didn’t just turn around and leave this mad man but something was holding her in place. Perhaps it was the conviction of this man’s belief that he was talking sense, he’d even gone to the trouble to provide apparent ‘proof’.   
She took the envelope, it was heavier than she expected and made out of a weird parchment type material. It wasn’t sealed the usual way, but instead had an old fashioned wax seal, with some type of crest in the red. She turned it over, and almost dropped the envelope in shock. 

Miss C.Brock  
The Left Corner of the Living Room  
65 Angels Close  
Brixton  
London

“What the hell…” she said slowly, under her breath. How on earth could this random old man know where she lived so precisely? She tore the envelope open, 2 sheets of the same parchment paper as the envelope fell out. One seemed to be some kind of list but Cara ignored that and focused on the one that was addressed to her.

Dear Miss Brock,  
We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.  
Yours sincerely,  
Bruce Bones  
Deputy Headmaster

She looked at the other letter, and found it was indeed a list of equipment. But it wasn’t anything that could be found on a normal school list and instead listed things such a cauldron, a pointed hat, a book of ‘standard’ spells and a wand. It wasn’t until she looked up at the old man, who had been standing by silently as she read the envelope and its contents, that she realised her mouth was open, and quickly closed it.   
“It’s detailed I’ll give you that,” she said, shaking the papers she held in her hand. “And I have no idea how you know so much about who I am and where I live, but there is no way this crap is true. It’s some stupid elaborate prank and I’m not falling for it.”  
The old man looked sad.  
“Have you never done things you can’t explain? Strange things that have happened to you that seem out of the ordinary?”  
Cara’s mind immediately went to only a couple of hours earlier, when she had scaled that tall fence with such ease. Then she shook her head. Fluke’s happened. It didn’t have an explanation as crazy as magic.   
“We’re done here.” Cara said firmly, jumping off the wall. She pulled on her coat and shoved the papers into her pocket. “Go bother someone else. And stay away from me.”  
“I can’t show you proof here, there are too many Muggles around. But I’m not lying Cara. You are a witch and Hogwarts is a real place.” He pulled another piece of paper out of his pocket and held it out to her.   
“This is a map which leads to a place called Diagon Alley. You’ll be able to buy everything on the school list there. I’ll send off an owl telling our Headmistress you’ll be attending. I hope you do dear.”  
His sincerity and her own curiosity got the better of her and Cara grabbed the map from him. But she still couldn’t believe what he said. It sounded too far-fetched for a person like her, who’d grown up being untrusting and a harsh sceptic. She strode away from him, not bothering to say anything. She walked in the opposite direction to where she lived in case he followed her. She’d only taken a few steps when she realised this was pointless. He already knew exactly where she lived. She turned around to take a last look at him, but to her surprise and disconcertment, he’d vanished. She turned her head left and right but he was nowhere to be seen. Frowning she carried on walking, head down, hands in her pockets, her right one curled around the papers she’d been given. 

Cara spent a good half an hour walking before she returned to her squat. The entire time, the only thought that had been in her head was a determination to not believe a single word of what she’d just been told. But his sincerity… he hadn’t really seemed mad at all. But then Cara thought about his mismatched clothing, the jacket that was probably stolen, talk of magic and witches. It couldn’t be real. It simply couldn’t be.   
The teenager Cara had been looking for earlier had returned and Cara quickly pulled the phones from her hiding spot and went over to the seventeen year old.  
The girl looked impressed as she examined each one and passed them to her friends.  
“These are in good shape. Don’t look like they’ve been ‘andled very much at all. Where’d you get ‘em?”  
Cara shrugged, best not to give away her sources, other kids were listening in.   
“I’ll give you £150 for them.” Cara snorted.   
“No way, that’s three iPhones you have there. Worth £400 at least.”  
“Yeah, but they’re also outdated models, £200 then.”  
“£350.” Cara countered and the older girl smiled, but her eyes glittered dangerously.   
“You drive a hard bargain kid. “£300 take it or leave it.” 

Cara decided to take it. She didn’t want to push the teenager, who had a dangerous temper that Cara had once witnessed her take out on another one of the kids. It hadn’t been pretty. The girl nodded to one of her friends who counted out the agreed amount in cash and handed it over to Cara. She watched the other people in the room, who were eyeing her newly acquired money with obvious longing. Cara made eye contact with all of them, as she clutched the cash in her hands, her eyes narrowed and her lips set in a slight scowl. Her message was clear. That money was hers and there would be trouble from anyone who tried to take it. Cara had lived rough for a lot longer than a lot of the kids and teenagers in this place and she knew how to handle herself. She made her way back to her corner. She placed the money in her coat pockets instead of her hiding place because a lot of people were still watching her. As she did her hands brushed past the papers the old man had given her earlier. She had momentarily forgotten about them, and gazed at the acceptance letter without really reading it.   
Cara had spent her entire life in relative poverty and squalor. If she was supposedly magical, then all those times terrible things had happened, shouldn’t she have been able to get out of them? Conjure food when she was starving, keep warm when she was freezing, take a bath when she was filthy. But of course, she couldn’t, because magic didn’t exist. It didn’t. It just couldn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave reviews! Even constructive ones make me smile. Also, enjoy!


	3. Chapter 3

She went to sleep that night with the resolute determination to forget that her day’s encounter had ever happened and tucked the letters out of sight, in the gap in the wall, along with her money. She wasn’t too sure why she didn’t just throw them away, but she found that she kind of didn’t want to. The idea of a school to go to, of being special, different to the people around her, it gave her a strange sense of security that she had never really felt before. Even if it was all a fantasy dreamed up in the head of a hallucinogenic old man. The next few days went by and Cara succeeded in forgetting her encounter. Her current predicament to simply get by and survive was far more pressing and important. 

Then, one morning, the 31st of July, Cara was brutally awoken by the sounds of people shouting, running feet and sirens. Cara blinked a couple of times, as flashing blue lights assaulted her eyes. For a few moments she was confused, then very quickly, she realised what must have happened. Squatting was illegal, the police must have finally found out about this place. In no desire to be caught by them, questioned and then thrown into some Home full of strangers, Cara immediately jumped up. She pulled on the coat she slept under, raked her hair into a messy ponytail and tore the wallpaper from her hiding place. She wouldn’t be needing it anymore. She grabbed everything inside, including the money she still had left from her phone sale, a healthy £250, along with a gold chain she had recently acquired in order to get more cash whenever she needed it again. She hastily stuffed everything into the pockets of her coat and her hoodie when they became full. As she grabbed the last few notes, something left her grip and fluttered onto the floor. She grabbed it and took a closer look, realising with a jolt it was the street map she had been given days earlier, along with a letter to a school of magic. She had nearly forgotten about that. She hadn’t really payed much attention to the map before, but looking at it now, she recognised the street it displayed, it was a popular shopping area in the city, one she’d never been to before but had heard of. She balled it up in her fist and quickly left the building, following the majority of the running people as they all tried to escape the cops. She had only got a few feet away from the building when she made accidental eye contact with a cop, who saw her guilty face and began to run towards her. Cara panicked; there were people all around her and she couldn’t see any signs of an escape that was quick enough. Then a kid about her age ran in front her. Cara knew the girl, she had slept near where she did and Cara often heard her cry silently at night. 

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, then grabbed the girls arm and swung her in the direct line of the approaching cop. The girl cried out as the policewoman grabbed hold of her, and Cara ducked low, shoving her way roughly through the crowd, her head down, until finally she reached an alleyway she knew. She took the turning and sprinted down it, coming out a few streets away from where she had started. This one was relatively empty of people, and completely empty of the police. For a couple of minutes, Cara leaned against a wall, breathing heavily. She felt a pang of guilt as she thought of the girl she’d sacrificed to save herself from capture and then shrugged it off. Cara would do anything to stay out of a care home and she definitely didn’t want the police questioning her about her past. She couldn’t really waste her time focusing on other people.   
For a moment, Cara felt at a loss. Minutes ago she’d had a place to stay. It wasn’t any kind of perfect, or even entirely safe. But it was warm, comfortable and a lot safer than the streets. Now she was back out in the open, with nowhere to go.   
“You have places to go, don’t be stupid,” Cara told herself resolutely. She knew of a hostel, run by a charity, where they served out free evening meals and a few streets away from it was an old subway tunnel which was popular with the homeless. Cara had slept there before and it wasn’t too bad. But before that, Cara now had a whole day to kill. She had made no plans for the day, instead planning on sleeping late before trying to get a good price for the gold chain. Almost unconsciously, Cara opened her left hand, looking down at the map she was still holding. Someone, probably the man she had talked to, had edited it slightly, circling two buildings placed in the middle of the street, with an arrow pointing right in between them. Beside the arrow was the name, ‘The Leaky Cauldron.’ Frowning Cara looked closer at the map. There was no gap between the two shops that had the circle around them; one a famous bookstore, the other a £1 bargain shop; and no mention on here about a place called Diagon Alley. For a few moments Cara battled with herself, her rational side fighting against the one that just wanted to wing it. Then she shrugged and tucked the map into the pocket of her jeans. It was after all, not like she had anything better to do.  
“Time to find an imaginary place,” she said aloud, then laughed quietly to herself, at the ridiculousness of it all. 

Cara loathed spending her money on something so silly, but she did so anyway, buying a ticket for the underground, which she then took to the street on her map. The place was bustling with people, customers coming in and out of the shops that lined the sides. Cara noticed a couple with a girl about her own age who was smiling down at the cluster of shopping bags she held and felt a small pang of jealousy. Or was it simply sadness? She looked away, and focused on the map, then looked up at the shops, walking slowly as she tried to find the ones that were circled. She eventually found the bookstore, and then went frowned as she looked to its left. There it was, plain as day, a dingy looking pub, with a swinging sign above its door which read, ‘The Leaky Cauldron’. Cara couldn’t quite believe it. She looked down again at her map, at the line between the shops, where this place should be listed but wasn’t, then up again at the pub. People were rushing in and out of the bookstore and the £1 place on either side of the pub in droves, but The Leaky Cauldron’s entrance was completely deserted. Cara couldn’t really blame them, it didn’t exactly look inviting, in fact she could barely make out the interior from the one small window beside the door. 

Could that old man have been telling the truth? Was she really a witch? Cara scolded herself. Just because he’d led her to a place that existed didn’t mean magic existed all of a sudden. Besides, the man had mentioned a place where she could apparently buy a whole heap of magical equipment. She seriously doubted she could obtain those things from a very dingy looking pub. The Leaky Cauldron didn’t look very inviting, but once again Cara’s curiosity got the best of her, and she let herself inside, trying to be as quiet as possible. She had come this far, might as well make it to the end, to prove to herself once and for all that she had been talking to a crazy person. The inside of the pub was almost completely deserted; she could make out a few people at tables here and there in the low light. The woman at the table closest to her was as strangely dressed as the man she’d met; wearing what appeared to be robes of some sort. Strongly conscious of the eyes of said woman on her, Cara made her way over to the bar where a young woman was cleaning tumblers.   
“Can I help you?” the lady asked, smiling warmly, when Cara didn’t say anything.   
“I er,” Cara felt ridiculously stupid, she just wanted to leave this dark place, but she pressed on anyway, feeling like the worst thing to happen would be her getting laughed at.   
“Diagon Alley?” she said it like a question, not really sure what it was she was supposed to be asking. She expected the bartender to look confused, laugh or feel sorry for this poor eleven year old kid that was clearly lost.  
Instead, her smile, if anything, became brighter. “First Year are you?” she asked brightly, making her way out from behind the bar. “Follow me.”  
Cara’s mind couldn’t really comprehend what was happening. This lady seemed to know exactly what she was talking about. How was that possible? She slowly walked after the bartender, who led her out to the back of the pub, where there was a tiny little courtyard and a large brick wall. Cara felt immediately apprehensive. This place looked even worse compared to the inside and there was no one around. She took a few steps back, tensing up.   
The bartender wasn’t watching her however. Instead she had pulled a wooden stick out of her apron and was tapping at the wall. That confirmed it; this was clearly a place for freaks. The bartender stopped tapping the wall and stepped back, smiling at Cara.  
“Welcome to Diagon Alley.” Cara didn’t return the smile. That’s because she was too busy staring at the wall, which was moving. It seemed to be melting, or folding away, revealing a hole that grew larger and larger, until finally it became an archway and Cara was looking at a cobbled street that was as busy and bustling as the one she had only just left. Her eyes went as wide as saucers, her mouth went slack jawed. Her heartbeat sped up and her legs felt like jelly, so she leant against what had once been a wall. 

“No…way…” she said slowly, her eyes drinking in the scene before her like they were parched. She took a slow step forwards, continuing to stare. It was true. It was all true. Magic, Hogwarts, her being a witch. It had to be true. She was staring straight at the proof of what the old man had told her. Diagon Alley sprawled in front of her, a colourful, living, breathing, real life place. “No way,” she said again and for a moment she felt completely overwhelmed, a single tear pricked the corner of her right eye. The place she was standing was so far removed, so unlike the world she had just come from, she couldn’t quite process it. She felt like she might break down and cry right there on the street. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder, and turned to find the old man she’d met in the park smiling down at her. He definitely hadn’t been there a second ago.  
“I knew you’d come,” he said with a smile and Cara immediately felt more comfortable. This man had been the one to tell her about this, she felt like he was a lot more tangible than the place she was standing in. “I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself the last time we met. Rude of me, I know your name. I’m Professor Neville Longbottom. You must have a lot of questions to ask me now that you no longer think I’m mad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I hope you enjoyed it and reviews would be received with great joy on my part!


	4. Chapter 4

Cara sat with Professor Neville Longbottom outside Florean Fortescue’s ice cream parlour, her hands curled around one of strangest but nicest ice-cream’s she had ever tasted. Not that she’d tasted a great selection. Professor Longbottom was no longer wearing the strange mismatch of clothes he’d worn when he’d met her at the estate. Now he looked even weirder, dressed in dark red robes, with a tie visible underneath and a matching pointed hat covering his grey hair. 

“I’m sorry for calling you crazy,” Cara said, before he could say anything, even though she felt she had been well within reason to disbelieve him.   
Professor Longbottom smiled kindly. “I understand why you would. Usually when we go out to find muggleborns we get a chance to do a few spells to prove what we’re talking about. With you we were out in the open, we shouldn’t really do magic in front of Muggles.”  
“Non-magic people,” Cara noted.   
“Exactly. Once a very long time ago, Muggles and the Wizarding world lived together, but unfortunately circumstances drove us underground. The Ministry of Magic created the Statute of Secrecy to keep both us and them safe.”  
Cara simply blinked at him and he laughed. “I’m sorry, perhaps that’s too much information all of a sudden. Let’s start simply shall we?”  
“Sounds like a good idea.”  
“The Ministry of Magic is our government.” Cara nodded. The idea of a government for witches and wizards seemed completely ridiculous to her, but then she supposed she was eating magical ice-cream in a street hidden by a moving wall. Ridiculous didn’t quite cover it.

“You’ll be attending Hogwarts, from September until July. Hogwarts has four houses: Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Each represents different qualities in a student. You’ll be sorted into one of them upon your arrival. But before you get to Hogwarts, you need to buy a few things. I hope you still have your equipment list?”  
Cara nodded again, pulling it from her pocket. It had got a little crumpled and torn, but was still readable. It was only now that she realised how long her list was and a feeling of dismay settled in her stomach, like a painful knot.  
“Professor, I don’t think I’ll be able to afford all this stuff. This,” she rummaged in her pockets, pulling out the £250, “is the only money I have.”  
“That’s alright. Hogwarts provides a student fund for people who come from less well-off backgrounds.” He took out a wooden stick- no a wand- and waved it in the air infront of him. A small sack of money appeared on the table before them. It was the first time Cara had seen magic, aside from the moving brick wall, and she couldn’t help but feel a little excited. “It’s not a huge sum unfortunately, you’ll have to buy a lot of things second hand, but it’s enough. We can convert the money you already have at Gringotts.”  
“Convert?” Cara asked, only half listening, as she reached for the bag of money and pulled out its contents. The she realised what he meant. The money was different from the usual pounds and pennies she was used to. In her hand was a silver coin; on one side was the face of a strange creature, on the other the magnificent white building that Cara could see at the end of Diagon Alley.

“You have your own currency?” She asked incredulously.   
“That silver one is a Sickle. Seventeen of those make a Galleon which is the gold one and twenty-nine Knuts, which are the bronze ones, make up a Sickle.” Cara peered into her bag and was a little disappointed to find so few of the golden Galleons.   
“What’s Gringotts?”  
Professor Longbottom stood up in answer, dropping a few of the bronze coins into the centre of the table as payment, where they promptly vanished.   
“The large white building at the end there,” he said, walking in that direction. Cara quickly followed, “It’s our bank.”  
“Wizards have a bank?” she asked, then chided herself. If they had their own currency, then logically they had their own bank.  
Professor Longbottom chuckled, “Gringotts is one of the safest places in the world. Watch out for the goblins though. They don’t like us very much.”  
“Goblins?” 

Cara read the inscription about thieves on the entrance doors to Gringotts with a slight feeling of guilt. Thievery was how she survived, though she supposed she wouldn’t ever try to steal anything from a place like this. Professor Longbottom was right about the goblins not liking them. As he and Cara walked down the impressive stone floor, she could feel their eyes on her. She turned and looked at one of them, whose dark eyes glittered shrewdly and quickly turned away. She had the unsettling feeling that if she looked straight at them they’d call her out for what she was. She didn’t make any comment or look up at them again until her Muggle money had been changed and they left the bank behind with her money bag feeling comfortably heavier.   
“You were unusually quiet in there,” Professor Longbottom commented.   
“They creeped me out,” Cara replied honestly, though his next question about where exactly she’d got her Muggle money from she deflected with an easy lie about doing a few jobs here and there over the years. She thought that the teacher wouldn’t really see her point of view that technically, the phones she’d stolen had been stolen anyway and might have taken the money from her. The pair drew to a halt outside a shop which displayed a large array of glittery robes in its window.  
“This is where we must part for now I’m afraid,” Professor Longbottom told her. “I need to get back to Hogwarts to prepare for tomorrow. Will you be okay shopping and getting back on your own?”  
Cara was going to tell him she’d be fine, but then she decided a little honesty would do her no harm.  
“I don’t- Professor I don’t have anywhere to stay for the night.” He simply nodded like he’d been expecting her to tell him just that.  
“Just let Miranda – the bartender at The Leaky Cauldron know. She’ll be happy to let you stay in one of their rooms free of charge for the night. And here,” he waved his wand in front of her and she caught a small rectangular paper out of the air.  
“It’s your ticket for the train tomorrow. Leaves King’s Cross at 11 o’clock sharp, so don’t be late.” Cara looked down at the ticket, then frowned and looked up at the Professor, confused.  
“Platform 9 and three-quarters? There’s no such thing is there?”

“Look for the wall between platforms 9 and 10. And be careful of the Muggles noticing. I look forward to seeing you at the sorting tomorrow Cara. Enjoy your afternoon.” And with no further explanation, Professor Longbottom vanished into thin air, right infront of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Share/Review/Enjoy as always!


	5. Chapter 5

Cara felt a little bit blindsided, still not entirely sure how she was supposed to get onto a platform that was in a wall. She decided she’d simply have to figure that out tomorrow, right now she still had the pressing matter of trying to buy everything on her equipment list. Tucking her ticket carefully into her coat pocket, she pulled out the list and consulted it. She was standing right beside Madam Malkin’s robe shop, so she decided to go there first. To her dismay, Cara quickly discovered that the new Hogwarts robes were far out of her price range. She quickly got over it however; she had spent her entire life in second-hand clothing. And if anyone at Hogwarts decided to make a comment about the uniform she wore that didn't quite fit properly, well, that would be their mistake. When she got to the front to pay for the robes she had chosen, Cara struggled a little with the new money, which still confused her. There was a girl standing beside her, a little older than her, with dark red hair and high quality robes in her hands. She noticed Cara’s hesitancy and smirked.   
“Maybe you should have brought your mum if you find it so hard to count,” she said in a low whisper, as Cara gathered her robes into a bag, having successfully paid with the shop assistant’s help. Cara ignored her, turning to leave. At the door the girl blocked her path.  
“Then again, maybe Muggles just shouldn’t come to Hogwarts.” Cara narrowed her eyes. The girl didn’t really bother her. Being so young but living on the streets meant she had dealt with a lot worse than a self-righteous child. Still, the girl annoyed her.  
“Maybe they shouldn’t let trolls go either,” Cara hissed back. She stayed for a moment, only to satisfyingly watch the look of anger on the girl’s face, then roughly shoved her way past, knocking the girl’s bag from her hand, and marched quickly to the next shop before the other girl retaliated.

The school books and other equipment like the scales and cauldron she also bought second-hand, without bumping into the redhead or anyone else near her age again. The cauldron had a strange smell issuing from it, probably from previous use, but it was the nicest one of the used bunch, so it was Cara’s only choice. The school list noted that Cara would be allowed to bring a pet with her, but as much as she desperately wanted one, and for as long as she lingered in the menagerie and the owl emporium, she knew she couldn’t afford an animal. She ran one last, longing finger across the head of beautiful tawny owl then left the dark emporium, blinking in the light of the evening summer sun. She consulted her list, and realised with a jolt that she only had one item left to buy. A wand: an actual real life, magic wand. Cara realised she had perhaps been looking forward to this the most. She’d watched Professor Longbottom and an assortment of other witches and wizards throughout the day, drawing out their wands and casting spells for a whole range of menial things like clearing the spilled drink of a small child or floating their bags infront of them so they didn’t have to hold them. The idea of using magic for such everyday tasks made the whole thing so much more real and so much more attainable to her. That she would be attending a magical boarding school, for the sole purpose of learning how to use magic only excited her further.   
She drew to a halt outside Ollivanders Wand Shop, a small, rather rundown looking building. She couldn’t see inside due to the boxes piled up in both windows, holding what she presumed were wands. Taking a deep breath, Cara let herself in. A middle aged man stood at the back of the shop, behind him, the wall was entirely obscured by mountains of different coloured boxes. Some of the piles were stacked so unevenly Cara was convinced the laws of physics should be causing them to topple and fall. She supposed it was magic keeping them in place. She walked forwards until she reached the counter where the man smiled.   
“First year I presume?” Cara nodded.  
“Are you Ollivander?” she asked, noting the name of the shop. The man’s smile faltered a little.   
“Unfortunately not the one who opened this shop. Ollivander passed away a few years ago. He was an old man. My name is Nathaniel. I was an apprentice of his, and his son.”  
“Oh,” Cara didn’t know what to say, but ‘sorry’ definitely wasn’t it. She despised fake sympathy, so would never inflict it upon anyone else.  
“Are these wands yours then?” she asked instead, pointing behind his head.   
“Oh no, these are my father’s, he made hundreds before his death. You’re lucky. He was the greatest wandmaker of all time, once these go, people won’t have wands quite the same.”   
Nathaniel Ollivander came out from behind the counter, a tape measure in his hand, which he let go above her head. Cara watched with wide eyes as it then began to measure her from head to toe on its own. When it was done it flew back to its owner, who caught it and walked into the rows of wands, muttering to himself. Cara felt a little unnerved, simply standing there in the dark shop, waiting for his return. He returned after a couple of minutes, a whole heap of boxes in his arms, which he placed on the counter.  
“Choosing a wand isn’t like choosing clothes,” he explained, pulling a random box from the pile, opening it and drawing out a thin sleek stick of dark brown.  
“My father always said, the wand chooses the person. You hold the wand,” he handed it to her, “And the wand tells you if you are the right person for it.” Cara didn’t have much time to decide if this wand wanted her, because Nathaniel snatched it from her hand before she could even wave it around. She wasn’t entirely sure she knew what the wandmaker was talking about, as if the wands were sentient. Cara spent a good fifteen minutes standing in the same spot, as Ollivander worked through the pile of boxes, continually talking about wands as he did so, telling her that each was specifically made with special wood and magical cores, meaning each wand was unique. Some wands he told her to wave, but nothing happened and he took them away from her quickly, still talking.  
“The wood and core combination give’s each wand a specific personality. The wand that chooses you will relate to you the most and enable your magical ability to flourish at its best.”  
Cara didn’t say anything, simply listening. She found the whole concept of the wands and the idea behind them fascinating. Finally, Ollivander handed her a wand which he allowed her to hold for longer than a few seconds. The wand itself was beautiful, unlike the others which had been varying shades of brown or deep red, this wand was pure white, with speckled grey bits that look silver. Immediately Cara felt a strange warm sensation in her left hand, where her fingers met the wand.   
“Wave,” the wandmaker commanded and Cara did so. Silver sparks burst out the tip of the wand, and the lantern standing on the counter exploded.   
“Oops,” Cara said, “Maybe it’s wrong?” and she held it out to Ollivander. He however didn’t seem to care much about his broken light and smiled broadly.  
“Oh no, no, no, this is it. Eleven inches, quite flexible. Aspen and dragon heartstring. Good for charmwork. They say this is a wand for the revolutionaries. Quite perfect I think.”  
Cara didn’t entirely understand what he meant, but she thought he was right. The wand felt good in her hand, like it was supposed to be there, as if it had been waiting for her to claim it. She paid for it, an expensive nine Galleons and tucked it away carefully amongst the fold of her robes. It was only when she was curled up in the warm bed of one of the room’s Miranda had so kindly offered her that she pulled it out again. The wand lay amongst the folds of her duvet; the bright wood glittering slightly in the glow from the lantern and Cara couldn’t tear her eyes away. The wand was like her seal, officially marking her out as an actual witch, separating her firmly from the world she’d come from. Now she was ready to start her new life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aah Diagon Alley. How I love you so. I hope you all did too, please leave reviews/comments to let me know what you though! They will be, as always, very much appreciated.


	6. Chapter 6

Cara awoke bright and early the next morning. She found her clothes neatly folded at the foot of her bed. They still looked tattered and old, but someone had washed them which had done them a world of difference. When she pulled them on and looked at herself in the mirror, Cara was pleased to note she looked a lot more like a normal eleven year old and less like a homeless street urchin. She piled all the items and clothes she had bought yesterday into a trunk that Miranda had given her the night before. She didn’t want to put her wand in the trunk, but found it was a little too long to fit in her pockets. After a couple of moments of thought, Cara had an idea. She raked her fingers through her long hair. She hadn’t had a chance to cut it in a long time, with no access to anything sharp and unable to afford the hairdressers, and it now fell to her elbows in increasingly knotted curls – she couldn’t quite remember the last time she’d brushed it. Once she felt it looked sufficiently presentable she gathered her dark chestnut coloured curls up into a messy bun, wrapping it around to the ends. She then grabbed her wand and stuck it through her bun and turned to admire the results. The wand kept her bun in place and also coupled to look like a pretty oriental style hair ornament. She went over to the bar once she’d dragged her trunk down the rickety stairs and thanked Miranda sincerely for her hospitality.

“I’m not used to such luxury,” she admitted, “or kindness.”   
“Oh it was nothing dear. I hope you have a brilliant time at Hogwarts. Oh and,” she added, when Cara was at the door, “running at the wall helps, if you’re nervous.” Cara assumed she was talking about the platform and raised her hand goodbye, before she walked back out into the Muggle world. King’s Cross wasn’t far from where she was, and Cara took the tube there without much difficulty. The lifts were broken, so she had to take the stairs, where she struggled with the heavy trunk, but a kindly commuter helped her down. Cara stopped when she reached platforms nine and ten. She still had fifteen minutes before the train left, but she still wasn’t quite sure how she was supposed to reach the magical platform. She headed over to the nearest wall like Professor Longbottom had mentioned and ran her hand over it, trying to look as inconspicuous to passers-by as possible. To her surprise, her hand didn’t feel the wall at all. Instead, it seemed to have passed straight through it. She realised with a slight jangling of nerves that she was supposed to go through it to reach the platform. No wonder Miranda had advised her to run at it, the wall may not have felt it, but it did look impossibly solid.   
Cara took a few steps back, the trunk on wheels behind her. She looked around her to make sure that the platform was relatively empty. Then she took a deep breath, and ran full pelt at the wall. She closed her eyes at the last second, her brain telling her that she was crazy to be running at it.   
A sudden rush of sound fell upon her ears and Cara opened her eyes, which widened into saucers as she took in the scene before her. All around her, adults, children and teenagers roamed, the delightful sound of a humdrum of laughter and chatter filling the air. And behind all the people stood a magnificent scarlet engine, ‘Hogwarts Express’ emblazoned on its side. Cara walked slowly along the platform, watching the scene around her. She passed a young girl, who was sniffing as she hugged her older brother; a redheaded couple with their children and a father helping his daughter get her trunk onto the train. The sight of all the families smiling put a small dent in her spirits, a window into a life she could never have, even with magic in her life. But she shook her head, mentally clearing the negative feelings out. She was a witch, about to set off to Hogwarts, where she would be for the a whole year. Cara couldn’t remember the last time she’d stayed in the same place before, perhaps Hogwarts could be more than just a school for her. She was determined to make it her home, after all, she had nowhere else. She reached a carriage door that was surrounded by people and climbed the steps, pulling her trunk up with her after a bit of heaving. As she walked along the corridor of the carriage, she began to feel a whole new set of nerves. Nearly all of the compartments already seemed to be occupied. It hit Cara that she hadn’t ever had a friend before. She wasn’t sure she knew how to be a friend. Any alliances she made with people were solely to further her own chances of survival, not out of any sense of loyalty or kinship. 

Eventually she came upon a compartment that was empty and quickly dragged her trunk inside, pushing it in the space underneath the seats and settled down. She leant her head on the wall, watching the people outside as a warning whistle sounded out across the noise and a there was a sudden last minute surge of people towards the doors. She unconsciously reached into the pocket of her hoodie, pulling something out and began fiddling it without really concentrating. She turned her head when she heard the compartment doors slide open. A group of girls who looked a few years older than her were at the door.  
“Hey, don’t mind if we sit here do you?” the blonde at the front asked. Cara shook her head and the four girls piled in, settling themselves down.   
“First Year are you?” the same blonde girl asked again, her tone bright. She carried on speaking, not giving her a chance to answer, “Nervous? I know I was. Can’t quite believe it was only two years ago. Feels like we’ve been at Hogwarts ages doesn’t it?” she said, directing her question at her friends who nodded in agreement.   
“What House do you think you’ll be sorted into?” A girl with bright green eyes asked, “Family expecting you to follow in their footsteps?”  
“Err,” Cara didn’t really know enough about any of the Houses to give an answer.   
“Me and Jasmine are Slytherin’s,” she continued, gesturing towards the blonde girl. “You better hope you are too, it’s the best place to be.”  
“Hah yeah right,” one of her friends laughed, punching her arm, “If you want to be dumb. Everyone knows Ravenclaw’s are the greatest.”  
“Ravenclaws are nerds.”  
“Well atleast we’re not crazy evil,” the Ravenclaw girl said, pulling an exaggerated ‘evil’ face. The green eyed girl laughed.  
“Atleast we know other places in Hogwarts exist apart from the library,” Jasmine chimed in and her and the green eyed girl high fived.   
“Girls, girls,” the fourth girl, who had been silent up until now stood up, a look of mock haughtiness on her face, “Let’s just face facts here,” she looked over at Cara, “If there’s one House you should aspire to be in, it’s the place of the heroes. Gryffindor!”  
Jasmine caught her arm and dragged her back down, “Place of show-offs you mean,” she remarked.  
“Well,” the Gryffindor flicked her hair, “We can afford to show off. We had the savior of the Wizarding World in our House.”  
“Oh seriously? You can’t play the Harry Potter card every time Alice.”  
“Should I play the Weasley card instead then?” Alice grinned.  
Cara was steadily getting increasingly confused as she listened to the girls’ banter, with no real idea what they what they were talking about. She assumed from Jasmine’s comment that Ravenclaw House was supposed to be for clever people.   
I could be a Ravenclaw I guess, she thought to herself. She hadn’t been to a school long enough to know if she was academically gifted, but she was definitely street smart. Not many eleven year olds survived as long as she did without anything too bad happening to them.  
“If you pull the Potter card, I’m just gonna say: Merlin,” The green-eyed girl said, eyebrows raised.  
“Nice one Lily,” Jasmine grinned. The three girls turned to the Ravenclaw expectantly, who looked up from the book she’d been reading and shrugged nonchalantly.   
“I don’t need to tell you about people. I just need to point out the wands your holding. Or the place you go if you have a magical injury. Or the people that were smart enough to write our textbooks. Basically, we’d be nowhere without Ravenclaws.”  
Her tone had a quiet bit of finality to it, like she was bored of this conversation and wanted to change the subject. The other girl’s laughed and chimed in with a few more boasts about their respective Houses, but the conversation quickly changed track, as they discussed their summers. Cara was watching the scenery rush by outside. The flat fields had been getting steadily steeper as the train went north. Cara had never been outside of London before and she had certainly never seen so much greenery. She found the rolling deep green hills dotted with sheep and other farm animals quite alien, but beautiful too. The sky darkened as the time rolled by, shot through with a musky pink before it slowly turned red, then a deep purple. When it was completely dark outside, Jasmine and her friends stood up.  
“Time to put your robes on,” she told Cara. Cara’s stomach was fluttering, brought about by a strange mixture of nerves and excitement. She thought about the Houses: Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. She wondered which one she’d end up in. She couldn’t quite remember what the fourth House was called, something that sounded similar to a Pokémon she’d seen on TV several years back she was sure…  
When the Hogwarts Express rolled into the station, Cara followed the older girls out. The corridor was busy with other students heading towards the exit and when Cara stepped out onto the platform, she lost sight of the girls she’d shared a compartment with, as they headed off in a direction they already knew. The northern air was much fresher than what she was used to in the city, but it was also a lot colder, and Cara shivered. For a moment she felt completely lost amongst the sea of people around her.  
Then a loud clear voice sounded out across the noise.

“First years! This way! First years come to me!” Cara headed towards the voice, stopping when she reached a crowd of kids all about her age.   
“Everyone here?” The speaker was a stern looking woman, with grey hair and strict demeanour. “I’m Professor Grubbly-Plank. Follow me. Come along now, this way.”  
The first years followed her as she led them away from the platform and down along a steep path, shivering in the cold night air. Eventually, the trees either side of them fell away and the path widened out as it met a large, dark lake. In single file along the bank bobbed several small boats. But that wasn’t what caught the group’s attention. At the far end of the black lake, on a high mountain was a magnificent castle, lights flickering in the windows across its many turrets and towers. Cara heard several gasps and exclamations of awe and she too couldn’t tear her eyes away. It was only a silhouette in the dark, but even then, it was beautiful. The first years clambered into the boats under the instruction of Professor Grubbly-Plank, four to each one.   
“Everyone in? Right, forward!” In one big move, the boats all moved off from the bank, lurching the students a little as they all glided across the water, Professor Grubbly-Plank’s boat leading the way. Everyone’s eyes were fixed firmly on the castle, the boats passed straight underneath it however, and the students climbed back out of the boats in an underground harbour. After a little more walking through a passageway and then across a grassy lawn, the first years reached the stone steps that led up to the gigantic oak doors. Professor Grubbly-Plank waved her wand and the doors swung open much more easily than their size should let them. Standing in the vast entrance hall was a tall wizard in deep blue robes. His black beard was shot through with streaks of silvery grey. He was a picture of what Cara would have imagined if she had been told to think of wizards. 

“Thankyou Professor,” he said, nodding his head at her. She smiled in reply then left the group behind. She opened a door on the right and a sudden rush of noises reached the ears of the students, before the door swung shut behind her. The Professor led the students into a smaller chamber off the Entrance Hall and turned towards the students, surveying them all  
“Welcome to Hogwarts everyone. I’m Professor Bones, the Deputy Headmaster. The year begins with a start of term banquet, but before you are seated in the Great Hall you will be sorted into your Houses. The sorting ceremony is probably one of the most important things you will go through whilst here. Once you are sorted, that House becomes yours for the rest of your time at Hogwarts. Almost like your family, as you will sleep in your House dormitories and all of your classes will be in with your House. Good deeds are awarded with House points, whilst bad behaviour will result in the loss of House points. At the end of the school year, the House with the most points will win the cup.   
The four Houses at Hogwarts are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each has produced its own set of simply brilliant witches and wizards, and each has a complex and important history. The Sorting Ceremony will begin in a few minutes, try to look your best, you’ll be infront of the whole school. I hope you are a credit both to your House and to this school.”  
Professor Bones left the room and the students immediately began muttering quietly amongst themselves. Cara heard the girl beside her sniff a little and looked at her. She was an incredibly tiny person, nearly a head shorter than Cara, with petite features and big blue eyes which looked a little watery. She noticed Cara looking and blew out a breath she seemed to have been holding.  
“What do you think happens?” she whispered, so quietly Cara barely heard her. “In the Sorting Ceremony I mean.”  
Cara shrugged, she didn’t have a clue, but the idea of parading around infront of the entire school body whilst her fate was decided didn’t exactly make her feel any better than the girl looked. She hoped they didn’t have to do any sort of test, which seemed pretty cruel to inflict upon them so suddenly.  
“Probably not as bad as we think,” she said, trying to reassure herself more than the girl.   
The girl gave her a tremulous smile. “I’m Connie,” she said, her voice only a little louder than before.  
“Cara,” Cara returned. She didn’t add anything else, not really sure she’d have much in common with a girl as easily scared as her. Luckily she didn’t need to try to make conversation as Professor Bones returned. She ran a nervous hand through the curls that had fallen loose from her bun as he led them back through the Entrance Hall, to a pair of double doors. 

“Form a line please,” Professor Bones said and the students obliged. Connie stood infront of Cara and a boy with dark hair got in line behind her. “Now, follow me.”  
And he opened the doors and led them into the Great Hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! Please leave comments and reviews to let me know what you think!


	7. Chapter 7

For a few moments Cara didn’t register the hundreds of people around her. She was looking up, at where there was a ceiling that didn’t quite look like it was there. She could make out the arches, but aside from the little hint, it simply looked as if the Great Hall opened up into the Heavens, as stars glittered down at them. She tore her eyes away and looked around her, trying her best to ignore the multitude of eyes looking her way. There were four long wooden benches stretching along the length of the Hall, and floating above them giving the hall place light, were thousands of flickering candles. Professor Bones led them to the front, where all of the teachers were sat, their bench facing towards the students. The first years also turned around, looking down on the faces looking up at them, which did nothing to quench Cara’s nerves. Professor Bones placed a wooden stool before the students and on top of that an extremely old, tattered looking wizard hat. Cara had been around a lot of homeless people, but she had never seen anyone wear anything quite as ancient as that. She wondered what they were supposed to do with it. She knew magicians pulled rabbits and the like out of ‘wizard’ hats, but that seemed a little silly to her. She looked at Professor Bones, thinking he’d give them instructions, but he had his eyes trained on the hat. She frowned and turned back to it too as the chatter in the Hall died away into silence. And then, a slit in the hat, near the brim opened up and the hat began to sing.

"Today I tell you all a story,  
The founders of Hogwarts were four,  
Each a great witch or wizard,  
With power unlike any before.

Dear Ravenclaw’s beauty,  
Was the talk of the land,  
But it was her wisdom and mind,  
That made her life so grand.

In her house she sought those,  
Whose intelligence shone brightest,  
Whose minds were sharp  
And upon whom tests were lightest.

Great Slytherin was a beacon,  
His power and ambition,  
Unrivalled to all those around him,  
Though he was a stickler for tradition.

He wanted those who blood was pure,  
People who could survive,  
Who yearned for better,  
Who would always thrive.

Bold Gryffindor was noble  
His acts strong and brave,  
Reknown for his prowess,  
He was no man’s slave.

His students like him,  
Are to be courageous,  
With acts of strength and valour,  
Couple with a taste of greatness.

Loved Hufflepuff’s kindness,  
Her heart and compassion,  
Were what gave her strength,  
Though spells were in fashion.

She did not crave a template,  
But instead took all,  
Her students as diverse,  
As the food in her hall.

But they could not live forever,  
And so I was made,  
To sort you where you belong,  
For your house is your family,  
Where you will be strong.

The entire Hall burst into applause as the hat finished. Cara was still staring at it in shock and so didn’t raise her hands to clap until everyone else had stopped. Still, she was relieved all she had to do was put a hat on her head. She just wished it didn’t have to happen infront of the entire school. Professor Bones cleared his throat and brought out a roll of parchment, which he shook loose.   
“Come and sit on the stool and put the hat on to be sorted when I call your name,” he instructed. He then began a roll call of names, going in alphabetical order of surnames.   
“Appleby, Liam!” The boy with large square glasses was told,  
“GRYFFINDOR!” and the table on the far left erupted into raucous cheers as Liam Appleby headed towards them.  
“Ashford, Connie!” The petite girl stepped forwards, nervously tucking a stray golden blond hair behind her ear. Cara could see her visibly shaking. The hat fell over her eyes, but after a few moments it shouted out,  
“HUFFLEPUFF!” Connie was so nervous she struggled to get the hat off, which earnt her a few snickers. She then walked red-faced to the cheering table on the middle right and was clapped on the back as she sat down amongst the other Hufflepuffs. Cara tried her best not to roll her eyes; she hoped she wouldn’t be stuck with her all year.   
“Baines, William” was called and the dark haired boy that had been behind her in the queue put the hat on. It deliberated for a little longer than it had done with Connie, then called out,  
“SLYTHERIN!” This time it was the table on the far right, next to Hufflepuff that cheered.

“Brock, Cara!” It took Cara a couple of moments to realise her name had been called and she stepped towards the stool. As she sat down she became unpleasantly aware of the rows of faces staring directly at her. She was almost glad when the Sorting hat was placed on her head, because it fell down over her eyes, blocking her view of the hall. She was a little surprised to hear a voice in her ear.  
“A smart one I see, plenty of talent here,” it said, “quite a wily one aren’t you.” Cara didn’t say anything, listening as the hat mulled over her. “Not very ambitious, but certinaly determined. I know where you could be great.   
HUFFLEPUFF!” The hat called the last word out to the Hall and Hufflepuff House burst into loud cheers as Cara pulled the hat off and got to her feet. She blinked a couple of times. She didn’t know enough about the Houses to be too disappointed, but from what she had heard from the girls on the train and the hat’s song, Hufflepuff was definitely the last place she’d expected to be sorted into.  
As she headed towards the Hufflepuff table she spotted Jasmine sitting on the Slytherin table. The older girl smiled at her, but Cara was a little disconcerted that it looked a little too sympathetic as opposed to friendly. She sat down and had her hand shook and her back slapped by several smiling faces. She suddenly felt a lot more nervous now than she had earlier, not used to being the attention of so many people. She was relieved when they settled down, turning their attention back to the sorting. Connie was sitting opposite her and looked a lot less nervous now than she had a little earlier. Cara couldn’t help but think of the Sorting hat’s song, about how Hufflepuff was kind and good. She hoped the students weren’t expected to mimic her; she wasn’t so sure she was an entirely good person. She tried to push away the thoughts she was in the wrong place by following the example of the other students and concentrating on the sorting still happening at the front. Her eyes wandered as Professor Bones went through the list of students. She looked at all of the teachers sitting at their table. Right in the centre, in a chair a little larger than the others, sat a woman who Cara assumed was the Headmistress. She had a deep purple witches hat atop her hair which fell down her shoulder’s in loose golden waves. She was watching the students get sorted with a faint smile on her lips, as if each and every single one of them deserved her unwavering attention. Her cheekbones were high, her skin lightly tanned; Cara was so used to seeing street people, she didn’t even know people so good-looking existed in real life. Her attention was caught again by the first years when she heard a name she recognised as a girl with jet black hair took her place on the stool. 

The Sorting hat was barely on her head before “Ariana Potter,” was sorted into Gryffindor. Cara noticed that the Gryffindor’s cheer for the girl was a little louder than it had been for anyone else. She remembered the third year Alice had mentioned a saviour of the Wizarding world coming from her House with the same surname. She wondered what he had done and how this girl was related to him. As the last few students were sorted a pair of redheaded ‘Weasleys’ also became Gryffindors; another name Cara recognised from her train journey. Finally, all of the first years had been claimed by a House. Professor Bones rolled up his parchment and waved his wand at the stool and hat which disappeared. He then made his way to his seat beside the Headmistress at the staff table. She stood up, her smile broadening. 

“Welcome to all of you, new students and old. I have a few announcements to make, but those can wait. For now, grubs up!” she raised her arms high and Cara’s mouth fell open as the empty spaces on the table, between the golden plates and goblets, were now filled with dishes of the most food she had ever seen. The students in the hall cheered loudly and then there was a loud clattering as people began to fill their plates. Cara’s mouth watered as she stared at it: mountains of roast chicken and beef; platters of various kinds of cooked potato; steaming pasta; a whole variety of different vegetables; with little boats swimming with a whole range of different sauces to top their food with. Then there were plates of food that she didn’t even recognise. 

“Aren’t you going to eat?” the blonde boy beside her asked, a first year called Andrew Macmillan. Cara saw that he had already filled his plate with the roast beef with a collection of potatoes and vegetables than topped the whole thing off with gravy. Cara reached out for a single roast chicken leg a little tentatively. The amount of food before her felt a little unreal, she was so used to scavenging scraps. At the beginning, before she’d learnt about the charity places that gave out food and learnt that she had a particular talent for thievery, she’d spent many a night with no food at all. As she ate the chicken she felt especially conscious of how thin she was. Her cheekbones jutted out on her face, but not because they were high like the Headmistress, but because she was far too skinny. She felt the difference even more than usual sat beside Andrew, who wasn’t exactly fat, but definitely had a healthy amount of meat on his bones. Cara ate her way through the chicken leg and then a few potatoes at lightning speed, the food melting in her mouth. She had never tasted anything so good, but her stomach was so used to tiny amounts of food that she was quickly full. So that no one would question her empty plate she piled some greens on and fiddled around with them. Beside her, Andrew was telling the others about how all his family had been Hufflepuffs and that he needed to immediately send a letter off with his owl to tell them the good news. 

“My mum was a Ravenclaw,” Connie said, her voice still quiet, but louder than it had been earlier. “I don’t think she’ll be too happy with this.”  
“Why not? Hufflepuff’s a great house!” Andrew said, frowning at her. Connie shrugged.  
“She doesn’t really think Hufflepuff is a good place to hone my ‘talents’.” She pulled a face as she said the last word, like she was unsure if she had any talents to hone in the first place.   
“Well I’m a muggleborn,” the boy on Cara’s right – Naveen Rajah chimed in. “My dad’s a doctor, so he didn’t believe a word he was being told about me being supposedly ‘magical’. It was pretty funny actually.   
“What’s a doctor?” Valerie Jones - another first year – asked, a confused look on her face.  
“It’s a Muggle healer,” Connie told her, then added, “My dad’s a Muggle,” to explain how she knew.  
“How about you?” Andrew asked, nudging Cara with his elbow. She started, then quickly said, “Muggleborn too.”  
“What do your parents do?” Naveen asked.  
“Teachers,” Cara lied easily. She didn’t want the sympathy of her fellow students by telling them she didn’t have any parents. Fitting in was a lot easier. Besides, her fantasy teacher parents were close imaginary companions of hers; used often if she needed to get out of any sticky situations she got caught in, like travelling alone or buying things out of place for an eleven year old. Luckily she didn’t need to elaborate, as her schoolmates were much more interested in the second course that had just arrived. Now the dishes were full of a selection of gorgeous smelling desserts like chocolate cake, apple crumble, different flavours of ice-cream, éclairs and a range of different cupcakes. Cara reached immediately for an éclair, her previous fullness forgotten. She had seen boxes of these in various supermarkets she had visited, but never had the money to afford such a luxury. Now she bit down into it and tried her best not to look too ecstatic over dessert, because the éclair was one of the nicest things she’d ever tasted. She blazed through 2 more of the éclairs, savouring the sweet cream, soft pastry and warm milk chocolate. She was itching to try even more of the strange display of desserts, some plates were piled high with sweets that she was pretty sure didn’t exist in the Muggle world. She held herself back however, eating a handful of strawberries instead, knowing her stomach wouldn’t be able to handle too much. Cara had just finished the last of her strawberries, when she heard Naveen cry out. She looked to the right and almost choked on her strawberry. Sticking up halfway through the table was an extremely fat, very jolly looking man who also happened to be completely transparent. Cries rang out from across the hall and Cara looked around her to find that her table wasn’t the only one now visited by see-through, floating human figures.

“What the- is that a ghost?” she managed, directing her question at Andrew who nodded.  
“I’m the Fat Friar!” the ghost said, his voice loud and booming. Cara raised a single eyebrow.  
“You call yourself fat?” she said, looking pointedly at his wide belly. The Fat Friar laughed loudly.  
“The students took to calling me that several centuries ago! All good-natured fun of course, so I thought I might as well add it to my name!” He floated up out of the table completely and stopped behind Valerie. “It’s a shame I died when I did. With all this good food around, I undoubtedly would have only got larger!” Cara wondered whether the ghost ever spoke in a tone that wasn’t shouting and extremely jovial.   
“You’re the Hufflepuff ghost aren’t you?” Andrew asked him.  
“Oh yes! Hufflepuff was my old house. Still very dear to me! You’ll enjoy yourselves immensely here I’m sure. We’re a very friendly place you know. No secrets or problems here!”   
Cara sincerely hoped there were secrets. She kind of lived by them. She noticed a ghost near the Slytherin table, with staring eyes and chains around his body. He looked a lot more like the kind of ghost she would imagine a ghost should look.  
“That’s the Bloody Baron, Slytherin’s ghost,” the Fat Friar said, noticing her looking.   
“One day soon, I will get a smile out of him!” Looking at the Bloody Baron’s miserable face, Cara seriously doubted it, but she let the Fat Friar have his dream. The first years were rescued from him when he spotted some Hufflepuff students he knew and floated over to them.  
“He’s a bit… much, isn’t he,” Connie said and Cara smiled at her when their eyes met, glad she wasn’t the only one thinking it. 

Finally, the desserts also vanished from the plates. For a second Cara wondered where they came from and went to, but then the students loud chatter died away and she realised the Headmistress had stood up, waiting to address the Great Hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Sorting's Hat song (whilst not my greatest piece of writing) did take a while to write as poetry isn't my first port of call. So I hope you like it, let me know what you think of it and the rest of the story :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I apologise for the long hiatus I took in between chapters. Just life stuff keeping me busy. Now, however I am free! Be sure to leave reviews/comments about what you think! Thankyou for reading!

“As I’m sure you all know, I am Professor McCredie, Headmistress of this wonderful school. You must all be tired after your long day and full stomachs, but I’m afraid I must keep you here a little longer before you can rush off to dream.  
Firstly, the forest on school grounds is strictly forbidden to all students. I hope I don’t need to remind any of you, especially the older students, of this again this year. Secondly, there is to be no magic used in the corridors between classes. Please only practise where you are allowed, we don’t want any accidental mishaps.  
Quidditch trials are held in the second week of term. If you are interested in playing, please make sure you let your team captains know.”

Cara guessed Quidditch was some kind of sport, though definitely not any from the Muggle world. She decided she probably wouldn’t be trying out for it, having never played a single sport in her life. Maybe if they had teams for cross-country running here, she could definitely run.  
“Now, I think the time for sleep is upon us. First years please follow your prefects to your common room. I hope you all have a memorable and successful year!”  
The students all clapped as Professor McCredie returned to her seat.

“Hey guys, I’m Lucy,” Cara and her fellow first years looked up at the teenager who had worked her way over to them. “I’m a sixth year and one of the Prefects for Hufflepuff. Follow me please.”  
The first years got up slowly, and as they walked out of the Great Hall no one said much, Professor McCredie’s mention of beds had made them all realise how sleep they were. They huddled close as they reached the Entrance Hall, where there were large crowds of students heading off to each of their respective common rooms and mixed amongst them the shimmering forms of ghosts.  
“They’re moving,” she heard Naveen whisper to Andrew, his head tilted upwards, once they’d left the Entrance Hall. Cara followed his gaze, aware her mouth was wide open with awe and she stared at the rows and rows of giant stone staircases that were indeed moving, cause the students to stop and wait at certain bits, like traffic, as they waited for the staircase to stop in the right place. She only brought her vision back to street level when she walked into someone a lot taller than her and hurried after her housemates. The staircases weren’t the only moving inanimate objects. What Cara had at first thought was a giant screen showing a video, actually turned out to be a full length portrait of a beautiful young woman who was waving at the students as the passed under her. 

“But they’re paintings. How can she even seen us?” Cara asked to the group in general.  
Valerie shrugged, “Magic,” she offered. Which Cara felt was a pretty reasonable answer. Cara wanted to go up the stairs, but instead Lucy led the group down a corridor on the right. They then proceeded to make a series of complicated turns through even more corridors as they walked deeper below the school. Cara was sure she’d get lost several times before she learnt how to get out of and return to her common room. Eventually they reached a corridor that dead-ended with a large still life portrait of a bowl of fruit. Stacked beside the portrait was a bunch of barrels.

“The fruit bowl hides the entrance to the kitchens,” Lucy explained, as she drew to a halt infront of it. “If you tickle the pear you can go in and the House Elves usually give you a bunch of food. Don’t spread that fact around though, easy kitchen access is a bit of a Hufflepuff privelage, most of the food still served today were Helga Hufflepuff’s recipes. And this,” she turned to the barrels, “Is our entrance.” Lucy leaned forward and tapped the barrel two from the bottom, in the middle of the second row in a particular rythum. The barrel’s lid swung open, revealing a large circular passage in the wall. “You have to tap that specific barrel in the specific rythem of ‘Helga Hufflepuff’. Do it wrong and not only will it not open but you’ll get a dosage of horrible stuff to the face. It used to be vinegar but quite a few years back, some smart alec found out the spell that did and and replaced it with some kind of potion. Noone’s ever told the teachers so it hasn’t been changed back but apparently a Slytherin tried to get in and got changed into a gerbil.”  
Cara’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and Connie squeaked.

“So basically,” Lucy continued, a slight smirk playing across her lips, “Don’t get it wrong. If you think you might, just wait until someone else comes or ask a House Elf, they’ll tell you if you show them your Hufflepuff tie to prove your from our house. Follow me then,” and she climbed into the passageway. The students followed her, the passage wasn’t very long and the first years quickly came out into the large common room. The common room was round, with a low ceiling and was pleasantly warm. It was decorated with lots of yellow hangings, burnished copper, and overstuffed sofas and armchairs upholstered in yellow and black – the Hufflepuff house colours. Dotted along the wall at regular intervals were circular windows. Cara was pretty sure they were underground so she wasn’t sure what could be seen out of the windows, though currently they were pitch black. Vines were circles through the wooden beams on the ceiling and when Cara looked closer, she noticed that they were moving, shifting their positions ever so slightly, as if trying to find a comfier spot. Beside the area where the seating was, a large honey-coloured mantelpiece jutted out of the wall, the wood carved with badgers. Lucy led them across the common room to the mantelpiece and pointed out the full length portrait of a medieval looking woman smiling down at them.  
“This is our founder, Helga Hufflepuff.” The woman was a little plump, with bright red hair woven into an intricate plaited bun above her hair, her dress was painted out with what looked like crushed black velvet and yellow thread. She wasn’t ‘traditionally’ so perhaps, but Cara couldn’t deny that Helga Hufflepuff enamnated a simple kind of beauty, her blue eyes glittering with light, even through the painting.

“I won’t keep you very long, as I’m sure you’re all tired, but I would just like to extend a very warm welcome to you all,” Hufflepuff’s portrait said. “My house strives to work hard at all we do and be loyal to those we love above all else, qualities which perhaps aren’t as exciting as my friend’s houses emulate, but which are every bit as important I think. I may only be a frozen image of my former self, but I am always here for a chat about anything! Goodnight!”  
The first years all murmured goodnight back, not really sure of what to make of the fact that they could chat to their founder. “Thanks Professor.”  
As Lucy led them away from the portrait she said in a low voice, “If any of the other houses give you stick about being put in Hufflepuff, never mention it infront of her. I think over the centuries she’s got pretty tired of the same complaints or quips, it pisses her off and she’ll go rant to McCredie about inter-house relations and recipe improvements for ages.”  
“But she’s a portrait,” Naveen pointed out. 

“They can moved between all of the paintings in the castle,” Lucy explained, then threw her arms wide, gesturing at two identical shaped, circular doors in the wall. “Left one takes you to the girl’s dormitories, boy’s on the right. There’s a massive bunch of tunnels through those doors, they lead off to dorms, bathrooms, storerooms. There’s a mini-library in each one and whole bunch of other rooms you’ll probably discover over the years if you can be bothered to explore enough. First years dorms are down the second corridor. Don’t get lost!” were her parting words of encouragement, before she left them and went and collapsed onto one of the armchairs. The girls all looked at each other for a moment, before Cara stepped forward and pulled the door open, climbing through. The corridor infront of her was completely straight so Cara walked down it. It was only when she reached the end that she realised what Lucy had meant. The corridor branched off into four different sections, each which seemed to have even more offshoots. Cara led the way down the second one as Lucy had instructed, ignoring the offshoots and instead looking at any doors they passed. It was only when they had reached the very end of this particular corridor that they finally came across a large wooden door, the same honey colour as the mantelpiece in the common room, which had a black plaque on it labelled ‘First Years’. Beside it was another door labelled ‘Bathroom’. 

Cara pushed the door open and the girls found themselves in another circular room, this one however had four beds in it, one for each of the girls. The bed’s all had brightly coloured patchwork quilts across the top of them. The girl’s walked over to their beds, identified by their trunks which had been placed at the bottom. Cara’s bed lay between Connie’s and another girl she hadn’t talked to in the Great Hall, but who she knew was called Minette Benitez. The two girls smiled at each other as they headed to their beds. The other girls drew their curtains around their beds as they changed, but Cara simply kicked off her trainers, pulled off her robes and snuggled down under the covers in her shirt and trousers. As she stared up at the dark wooden ceiling of her room, Cara thought of everything that had happened in a single day and how it had been nothing like what she had thought it would be. She was finally in a place where she had good food, a place to sleep, people around her who weren’t distracted by their own severe conditions and it was all guaranteed for the whole year. She wouldn’t lose it because someone bigger or scarier than her kicked her out, or the police came, or she could no longer pay for it. Her last thought before she fell asleep was that even if she didn’t make any friends, at least she always had paintings and ghosts to talk to. The thought made her chuckle quietly, before she fell into a thick, heavy, dreamless sleep, her body relaxing completely in the comfort that she wasn’t used to.


	9. Chapter 9

It took Cara a long time to wake up the next morning, her body not used to the exquisite comfort of the four poster beds. When she did finally tear open her heavy lids, she thought for a heartbeat she was in a dream before the memories of the day before rushed back to her. On her left, Connie was already dressed in her robes, sitting infront of the mirror and plaiting her silver hair. Cara yawned widely as she swung out of bed. After she had showered – another experience she could chalk up as one of the best she’d ever had – she sat infront of her own mirror, scowling dejectedly at her messy curls.  
“Wow, your hair is so long,” Connie noticed, her tone admiring.   
“Annoying more like,” Cara replied, wincing as she pulled apart a particularly knotted part close to the bottom near her elbow.   
“I could sort if for you if you like,” Connie offered kindly. Cara didn’t really want her to, but she also knew she couldn’t walk through school with a birds nest so agreed. Connie used her own brush to smooth out Cara’s hair. Cara was convinced it was enchanted with something, because she barely felt it, but it eased out her knots in seconds. She then plaited Cara’s brunette locks similarly to her own, only to the side, and draped it over her shoulder.   
“There! It looks fab now!” Cara couldn’t disagree; it certainly did look a lot better than usual.  
“Thanks Connie,” she said sincerely.  
“Try having hair like mine,” Valerie commented, as the girls made their way to the Great Hall for breakfast. “Dreadlocks are about the only thing I can do that don’t take me half a year. And mum refuses to let me just shave it all off.”

When they reached their house table, they all sat down beside the first year boys who were already eating. Including Naveen and Andrew, there were seven Hufflepuff boys in the first year. Cara knew the Welsh boy was called Tom Griffin and there was another with a strong Northern accent called Luke Robertson. She couldn’t really remember the names of the other three boys, who were all tucking into their breakfast with enthusiasm. Breakfast was the one meal Cara had had properly, as the charity food places for the homeless always provided a large spread for the ‘most important’ meal of the day and for the past couple of years Cara had been close enough to them to eat. She was munching her way through her second piece of toast when Professor Bones walked up to the group of first years, parchments in his hands. 

“Morning students,” he said, nodding at them, “I am the head of Hufflepuff house. I hope you all enjoy yourselves a lot and work hard this year, who knows, maybe we could even win the House cup!” He chuckled to himself, like he’d just make a great joke, though the students just stared at him blankly. He looked down at their faces and cleared his throat, “Anyway, here are your timetables,” he handed them out, “Be on time please, tardiness is a poor start to any lesson. I teach Transfiguration, so obviously, you’ll do fantastically in that.” He smiled and Cara got the feeling he would not be best pleased with anyone who didn’t do fantastically in his lesson. She looked through her timetable, noting that Transfiguration was their first lesson. Naveen was checking his watch opposite her and caught her eye when he looked up.

“Pretty sure Bones just said to be on time,” he said quickly, and the Hufflepuffs all sprang up from the table almost simultaneously, rushing out the Hall.   
“Second floor,” Andrew told them, consulting his timetable and Cara led the way up the moving staircases, in what she hoped was the right direction. She was just beginning to panic slightly about the fact that she had no idea where she was going and everyone was following her when she spotted someone she recognised just ahead of her.  
“Hey, Alice!” she shouted out and the third year turned around, frowning at her.  
“Erm, I’m Cara, from the train?” she added, when Alice still looked confused. The Gryffindor’s expression cleared.  
“Oh of course yeah, how’s things? Made some friends?” She eyed Connie, who was beside her.   
“Great, yeah, listen, do you know where the Transfiguration class is?” Alice nodded, pointing them in the right direction. Cara thanked her, then hurried off, trying her best not to be rude. The Hufflepuffs all piled into the classroom bang on nine. The Ravenclaws, who they shared the lesson with, were already there, and stared at them as they all hurriedly found seats. Professor Bones raised a single eyebrow.   
“I was wondering where half my class had got to.”  
“The food was good sir,” Minette quipped, causing some of the others to titter.   
“Well, work hard today, and you won’t have to miss lunch,” Bones replied, a half smile on his face. Cara was sitting next to Naveen and she was glad to see that he looked about as terrified about the prospect of doing actual magic as she felt. 

“It’s a bit different from accidently fixing a broken bone when you’re five isn’t it,” he said to her in a low voice, “Doing proper spells.” After Bones had told them all about exactly how difficult Transfiguration was, he handed out matchsticks and told them to try to turn it into a needle, using what he told them was “an exceedingly simple spell.”  
Cara determinedly tried the spell for half the lesson, feeling increasingly ridiculous when nothing happened. Eventually she gave up and jabbed her wand at the match, which made it explode, like the lamp in Ollivander’s shop, a splinter landing in the hand of the Ravenclaw girl at the desk beside her, who yelped and scowled furiously. By the end of the lesson, only three students had managed to successfully change the match and all of them were Ravenclaw’s, much to Bones’ obvious disappointment.  
“Well, perhaps next lesson,” he said as they left. Cara’s mood wasn’t improved when she found out they also shared the next lesson, History of Magic, with the same Ravenclaws. Professor Binns may have been a ghost, but that was where any interest the students may have had in him ended as he proceeded to lull them into a deep stupor. Cara snapped her head up when the bell for the end of the lesson rang out, blinking to clear the sleep from her eyes. She prodded Luke Robertson in the arm when he continued to snore beside her and he murmured a bleary “Five more minutes mum,” at her. She shrugged and set off out of the classroom with Naveen and Andrew in tow.   
“On the bright side,” Andrew commented, as he munched his way through a tuna sandwich, “At least nothing else today will be that awful.”

“Don’t speak too soon,” Naveen said darkly. They shared their next lesson, Charms with the Gryffindors. Cara’s fellow Hufflepuffs paired off without her, so she sat down next to a Gryffindor girl with messy short black hair. Professor Song was a whispy thin Chinese witch, with a strong accent who wrapped her wand sharply across the desk of two chatty Gryffindor boys near the front of the class, causing their desk to promptly do a little jig. She showed them how to levitate a feather, “Swish and flick,” she said sharply, then set them off to try on their own. It was only now, when Cara turned towards her, that Cara recognised who the girl was. She was Ariana Potter, the one who’d got a louder-than-usual cheer at the Sorting Ceremony. 

“Hi, I’m Ariana,” Ariana said, sticking out a hand.  
“Cara,” she shook it. She was itching to ask Ariana about this great hero she’d heard about, but then she noticed the way Ariana rolled her eyes at the two boys who kept shouting “Hey Potter,” at her, accompanied with various suggestions about how she could help them out, and decided to hold back, deciding the girl probably wouldn’t appreciate it.  
Cara pulled out her wand and pointed it at the feather.   
“Hey, nice wand,” Ariana noted, looking at the white wood and Cara smiled.  
“Thanks,” she said, then cleared her throat a little.   
“Wingardium Leviosa,” she said, moving her wand as instructed. The feather stayed put. “Well, that was exciting,” she remarked, “Your turn.”  
“Wingardium Leviosa,” this time, the feather rose a few inches of the table, before it floated back down.  
“Well done!”   
Ariana smiled, “Thanks, didn’t think I’d be able to do it.”  
“I’m guessing you come from a wizarding family then?” Cara asked slyly, feigning ignorance. Ariana looked surprised.  
“You don’t know? Muggleborn?”  
“Yeah, my parents are Muggles. Don’t know what?”  
Ariana shrugged, like the topic bored her. “My granddad was err, there was this massive Wizarding War nearly a century ago and my granddad was like the big hero that helped end it. I’m really proud of him,” she added, like she had realised her tone was a little downbeat. “But he’s just really famous because of it, on chocolate frog cards and everything. So everyone gets a little excited when they hear my surname. I just feel like that want to be friends for some kind of imaginary status boosting as opposed to actually knowing me you know.”  
Cara didn’t know. She’d spent her life in complete obscurity, where absolutely no one knew her, or cared about what became of her. She nodded anyway, guessing that was what Ariana wanted.   
“My dad told me it probably wouldn’t be as bad for us as it was for him and my aunt and uncle, but I don’t know. Atleast then the story was a little more truthful. Now it has become legend. Someone actually asked me whether my granddad could turn into a dragon.” She scoffed, though Cara felt it was a legitimate question. Harry Potter sounded like a powerful wizard, it was entirely plausible to her that he could do a Transfiguration spell as powerful that. She didn’t mention this though and as they exited the classroom together, felt as if she’d made a tentative new friend. This was confirmed when, a little further down the corridor, someone went barrelling straight into her, sending her stumbling into the wall, the contents of her bag emptying onto the ground.

“Do you mind,” she shouted, whirling on the person, and discovered with surprise that she recognised her. It was the redheaded girl from Diagon Alley, this time surrounded by a group of three girls, all with skirts hitched a little higher than allowed behind their robes.  
“Oops,” the girl said, wicked smile on her face, “I guess I just didn’t notice you, the colours of your tie blended in so well with the wall.”  
“That doesn’t even make sense,” Cara remarked, taking the books from Ariana and stuffing them into her bag.  
“Well, let’s just say that Hufflepuff is where you belong honey,” the girl said, her tone insulting.  
“Oh back off Felicity. Go redo your foundation or something,” Ariana looked exasperated, like the older girl was a pet of hers that often got out of hand. Felicity’s eyebrow’s shot up behind her sideswept fringe.  
“Merlin Ariana, I get that you’re trying to hide behind obscurity, but I’m pretty sure there’s a limit. Homeless tramps like her are that limit.”  
Cara froze at her words, wondering how on earth this random girl could have found out about her. Then she realised that Felicity was making a jab at her appearance, which only served to annoy her more. She took a few steps closer to her.  
“I may not be that good at spells,” she said, eyes narrowed, “but I could still punch you in the face.”   
“Ooh, well I’m terrified,” Felicity laughed scathingly, joined by her girlfriends, but walked away all the same. 

“What is her problem? I’ve done nothing to her.”   
Ariana shrugged.  
“Well, either way, she’s a bitch.”  
Ariana laughed at that. “Yeah, that’s probably true. She’s also my cousin unfortunately.”  
Cara cringed a little. “Oh er, no offence.”  
“Oh it’s fine. My family’s pretty big; she’s not a first cousin or anything. Still, we’re related and she’ll make sure that information is spread far and wide.”  
“No family is perfect I guess.”  
“True words sister!” Two more redheads bounded up towards them, though these ones seemed considerably friendlier. Cara recognised them as the Weasley twins from the sorting. “Unfortunately people assume ours is because, where can a Weasley go wrong! So we’ve already had a whole bunch of second years glare at our hair in anger.”  
“They weren’t glaring at your hair stupid,” the sister prodded her brother’s cheek, “They were glaring at your ridiculous face.”  
“More like you’re ridiculous nose.”  
“We have the same nose dumbass.”   
“Nope, I measured them once, yours is definitely bigger. Also, uglier.”  
“You measured my nose? Your life is so boring.”  
“Yeah, because I spend it with you.”  
This whole exchange happened in rapid fire between the pair, as Cara looked on feeling slightly bemused and trying not to laugh. Ariana quickly took hold of both of them by the shoulders. “Right! Lunch guys, c’mon.” And she marched them away, shooting a smile back at Cara who raised her hand in a wave, grinning. 

The rest of the week passed by much more quickly than Cara had thought it would, as she settled into a comfortable routine along with her fellow students. She didn’t get much better at Transfiguration over the week, but to Bones’ obvious pleasure her housemates did improve. Luckily, Cara’s rubbish Transfiguration skills were more than made up for by her considerably improved work in Charms. She didn’t like Potions much; the classroom felt too stuffy with all the bubbling potions and she felt she wouldn’t be good at remembering exactly how to make a successful potion, though to her surprise didn’t do too terribly. In Defence Against the Dark Arts, she found herself wondering more about the spells they were supposed to be learning how to defend against and quickly pushed those thoughts away, thanking the heavens that mind reading wasn’t a wizarding trick. Her clear favourite lesson of the week was Herbology, which they shared with the Gryffindors and which she discovered with a pleasant surprise was taught by Professor Longbottom. He smiled when he saw her and came over to ask her how she was, congratulate her on her sorting -“I’m head of Gryffindor, but Hufflepuff is next best I suppose,” he said jokingly - and make sure she was settling in fine.

“Come to me if you ever need a chat, I promise I don’t bite. My plant’s might though.” Cara laughed and made her way over to stand between Naveen and Andrew. The Weasley twins were directly opposite her and Cara spent a pleasant lesson watching them engage in a vicious mud fight which instead of reprimanding, Professor Longbottom scored and gave them tips on how to improve their aim; which placed him in all of the students immediate good books.


	10. Chapter 10

The first years were all pleased to discover, on the Monday of their second week, that a notice had been pinned up in their common room, informing them that they had flying lessons that afternoon and would be with the Ravenclaws.  
“It doesn’t mean on brooms does it?” Naveen asked his tone sceptical.   
“Ofcourse it does. What else would we fly on?” Andrew replied, his tone completely serious. Cara sniggered.  
“Next thing we know, we’re going to be cackling and painting ourselves green,” she said quietly to Naveen, behind Andrews’ back, as they headed down for breakfast.  
“Biggest weakness will be water.”  
Andrew had no idea what they were laughing about, and to his increasing annoyance they continued to make Wizard of Oz jokes for the rest of the day. 

 

“My grandma played for the Holyhead Harpies. Both my parents helped Gryffindor win the Quidditch Cup when they joined the team. My older brothers played for the team when they were here,” Ariana told Cara later, as they sat in Charms.   
“So basically, I have to be a natural flier and get onto the team next year, or I’m screwed.”  
“At least you’ve been on a broom before. I will have no clue what I’m doing.”  
“Plus we’re learning with the Slytherins. And everyone knows the Quidditch rivalry between us is massive. Like I don’t have enough pressure.”  
Cara patted her arm, “Good luck I guess.”

 

Cara felt excited as the students made their way to the grounds, where their flying lesson would be held. The students lined up in two rows, facing each other, each with a broom lying at their feet. Cara’s excitement fell away to slight trepidation as found herself in between Connie, who looked terrified at the prospect of flying and on the other side, a skinny Ravenclaw boy with messy dark blonde hair who was visibly shaking. Luckily, Minette was standing directly infront of her, and the girl’s face was completely calm, so Cara decided to focus on that. An extremely old witch stood at the front, whistle around her neck, Cara thought she looked far too old to be safe on a broom, but when she spoke, her voice was sharp and clear.  
“I’m Madam Hooch! I want you all to stand by your broom, stick your right hand over it and shout UP!” Cara did so, and she was glad when the broom obeyed her orders and like Minette’s opposite her, jumped into her hand. On either side of her Connie and the Ravenclaw boy’s brooms remained firmly on the ground. Madam Hooch gave the unsuccessful a few more tries before giving up and telling them to just pick them up. She then told them all to mount their brooms and walked up and down their rows, correcting their grips.  
“Now, once I blow my whistle, kick off the ground, hover for a few moments, then come back down by leaning forwards a little.” She gave a sharp blow on her whistle and the students all kicked off with various success. The Ravenclaw boy beside her actually did pretty well until he lost his grip and swung upside down, landing heavily on the floor. Cara hovered as instructed, feeling a strange mixture of both fear and exhilaration as her feet left the floor. She tipped her broom forward and sank back to the floor. She found that Connie was exactly where she’d left her.  
“At least try Connie. It’s really not that bad.” Connie didn’t say anything, simply eyeing the Ravenclaw boy who spat out some blades of grass.   
“It wasn’t that bad was it?” Cara supplied to him, her eyes indicating to him the answer she expected.  
“Nope, totally fine. Just need to get my balance right is all.”  
But Connie still refused to leave the ground and Madam Hooch didn’t press her, simply rolling her eyes like she was used to people like her.   
Once the more competent fliers had all successfully learnt how to rise and return to the ground, Madam Hooch allowed them to rise a couple of feet higher and actually perform a few laps on the ground, strictly in pairs, with her following closely behind just incase. Cara was paired with Minette and when the girls discovered they were both equally good fliers, they began an unspoken competition, each trying to get just a little higher and faster than the other. Madam Hooch didn’t stop them; in fact she almost encouraged it and patted them both heavily on the back once they soared to a stop.   
“Brilliant girls, I expect to see you at Quidditch try-outs next year after more practice,” which made the girls grin happily at each other. 

**

“That was awesome!” Cara said ethusiatically as the others tucked into their dinner, later that evening.  
“Yeah, you already said,” Andrew said, who hadn’t been very good at flying.  
“A million times,” Naveen added, who had. “Though it was,” he concurred.   
“How come we can’t try out this year?” she asked Andrew, but it was Minette who answered.  
“We could. But the older years have way more experience than us, we’d not even make the bench.”  
“We’ll just have to practice loads this year,” Naveen said.   
“This is the first time we’ve actually been better than the Ravenclaws at something you know,” Valerie noted, looking past their heads at their Ravenclaw counterparts, with a sense of victory in her tone.   
“Not all of us,” Connie said quietly, her tone dejected. Cara knew she should be sympathetic, but she found she couldn’t feel very sorry for a girl who hadn’t even tried. Minette held no such qualms and put a reassuring arm around the tiny girl’s shoulder.   
“Nevermind, everyone’s different.”  
“Exactly, I mean, you’re definitely the best at Transfiguration from all of us,” Andrew added. The other first years added other complimentary words to make her feel better, which made Cara feel extremely guilty, remembering that as a Hufflepuff, she was supposed to be kind. The moment passed however, before she could chime in with anything. 

 

As the weeks rolled by Cara was so comfortable she realised she hadn’t even thought once about her past life in London. It seemed like another world to her now, that life had belonged to a different person. Here she was, a smiling, confident young witch, with plenty of friends, academically gifted, even if she was no genius. She laughed to herself as she remembered her earlier fears that she didn’t belong at Hogwarts or in Hufflepuff. She grew close to Naveen, who shared her snarky outlook on a lot of things though was on friendly terms with everyone in her house. The girls often stayed up late in their dorm, talking and laughing about the various goings on at Hogwarts, or joined the boys in the common room where they snacked on food from the kitchen’s which the House Elves had almost thrown at them, they were so eager to give them it. She also remained firm friends with Ariana, as they shared plenty of classes, so had plenty of opportunity to talk.   
The only downside she had was Felicity Weasley, who insisted on barging violently into her every time they passed each other in corridors, coupled with a rude remark about her appearance or upbringing. Cara didn’t retaliate anymore like she did the first time, knowing she had faced a lot worse than a spiteful bully and decided that Felicity might give up if she got no reaction. Close to Halloween time, her plan paid off and Felicity stopped her aggressive corridor tactics.   
Unfortunately however, she didn’t stop completely and instead transferred her bullying to someone whom she thought would be a better target. When Cara witnessed her go barrelling into the tiny Connie, she rushed over to her immediately. She helped her pick up some of the books that had spilled out of her bag. Naveen was beside her, picking up some quills. When Connie straightened, Cara was dismayed to see the tears that were making their way down her pixie face. The girl sniffed as she put the books back into her bag.  
“Thanks guys,” she said, her voice a little shaky. “It was my own fault; I shouldn’t walk so slowly I guess.” Cara was surprised at the quiet rush of fury she was feeling. The Gryffindor girl had done the exact same thing to her for several weeks, but somehow, seeing it happen to her shy friend, the anger was a lot stronger. She heard the snickers of students that had been standing nearby and whirled around.  
“Don’t you have places to be?” she snarled, tone aggressive. The students, though older than her, immediately began walking away. Cara had her offensive side down to pat, it was a good way to scare off unwelcome attention if it was dark and she was still walking around on the streets.   
“Of course it wasn’t your fault Con,” Naveen said to his friend, his voice kind, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “Those girls are just bullies. Don’t let them get to you.”  
“It’s okay. Being this small means I’ve always been a bit of a mean girl target. I’m used to it.”  
“Well you shouldn’t be,” Naveen said resolutely, “They don’t deserve to get away with it.”  
“I didn’t care when she did it to me. But she’s gone too far this time,” Cara said, scowling in anger, “No one hurts my friends and gets away with it.”  
“What will you do?” Naveen asked, a little sceptical. “She’s older than we are, probably knows way more spells, and her group is bigger and tougher.”  
Cara raised her eyebrows, “there’s more than one way to skin a cat,” she said cryptically, but didn’t elaborate, leading the way to their charms classroom. 

From then on, as the Hufflepuffs walked the corridor, they made sure to shield Connie with their own bodies, walking protectively around her. Cara smirked at the annoyed look that crossed Felicity’s face when she saw them, and brushed slightly past her as the two groups passed each other. When Felicity had vanished around the corner, Cara raised her hand, spinning a wand with her fingers.  
“Where’d you get that from?” Valerie asked, looking surprised. Cara looked down at the wand, like she’d only just realised she had it.  
“I saw it on the floor, I guess someone dropped it.”  
“I didn’t see you bend down,” Andrew said, looking unsure.   
“You should give it in to a Professor,” Thomas said.  
“Nah, whoever lost it will find it eventually. Here, catch,” and she threw the wand into the open mouth of a gargoyle statue as they passed it. The gargoyle reacted almost instinctively, its mouth closing sharply around the wand, which splintered a little in its strong stone grip.   
“Cara! What if it breaks?” Connie looked worried.  
“You won’t break it will you?” Cara asked the gargoyle, mock concern in her voice. The gargoyle opened its mouth to answer, dropping the wand, which rolled into the dusty corner between the statue and wall.  
“Oops,” the gargoyle’s voice was deep and croaky.  
“Oops indeed,” Cara’s eyes glittered and she hurriedly ushered her friends along, before they started asking more questions or became too morally uptight. They complied because she spoke with a sharp, no-nonsense tone. Only Naveen remained beside her, and he looked at her now, frowning.  
“That was Felicity’s wand wasn’t it?” Cara didn’t answer, simply following after her other friends, towards their common room.   
“How on earth did you get it? I was right next to you and I didn’t even see you touch her.” Cara still refused to reply.  
“Cara, I know you’re angry with her about Con. We all are, but stealing her wand, that’s going a bit far don’t you think? How on earth can she do anything without it.”  
“I haven’t stolen it Naveen. She’s just lost it is all.”  
“She’ll blame you first when she notices it’s missing you know.”  
“So? No one can prove anything. They’ll find her poor wand gathering dust in a corridor she walked down once. I certainly didn’t do anything.”  
“It’s still a bit mean…” he said uncertainly. Cara shrugged, unsympathetic, not swayed from her conviction.  
“No one messes with my friends,” was her simple reply and Naveen decided to leave it, feeling deep down, that though he may not agree with her methods he did completely agree with her sentiment.


End file.
